Unfamiliar
by museicalitea
Summary: It was bad enough being abandoned without explanation. Being unable to communicate with strangers who could not understand him. But when they could not bring themselves to accept him, led by a prejudiced Protector - suffice to say, Alonzo could hardly see the point in staying.
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: CATS belongs to Andrew Lloyd Weber, the RUG, and T.S. Eliot.

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><p>He'd had a lot of experience being in an unknown place, with strangers whom he had to accept and learn about, and for things to settle down and fall into a rhythm, a steady pace, when out of the blue, everything changed.<p>

As a result, he'd had a lot of practice – almost too much – at adapting on the fly. Adapting on the fly, and adjusting by himself. Some companions helped greatly – others hindered, many times with malicious intent. Others still had left him to the night, and the good will of the unknown.

But this – this topped them all. This awful, awful situation was so much the same in so many ways, yet was strangely unfamiliar.

Maybe, Alonzo thought, it was because for the first time in a lifetime of unfamiliarity and changes, he now had the power to make the situation better. He wasn't in the dark; he had some form of control. And even though the thought should have been exhilarating, exciting…

Right now it was just scaring him shitless.

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><p>This hadn't been how it was supposed to be. He knew he was where he was by some form of default and an incredibly strange sort of luck, he supposed, and somehow, he didn't know how in Heaviside it had happened, he was benefiting from it. In a way.<p>

But…he would be the first to admit that he'd never actually wanted this. In some ways, he still wasn't sure if it was what he really wanted. He'd had to do a lot of self-convincing in order to get himself to accept his position, and even now, most of his unquestioned self-confidence and bravery was merely a façade. One where he could usually fool everyone – including himself – into thinking it was real – a façade nonetheless.

So easy, to pretend he was really a protector.

But it was times like these – and this one in particular – that Munkustrap had himself convinced that he really wasn't the right one to do it. To keep an entire tribe, a growing tribe, safe. He had tried, tried so hard to protect them all from everything in their lives that could harm them and hurt them, but now…

Now, even as he lay, unaware of anything, he knew he had failed them. He had left them unprotected. And he hated himself for it.

* * *

><p>She knew that she was had not been born into the tribe. She had known that for a long time, and it never bothered her. She had family enough with them, and friends, and the best father figure she could have asked for.<p>

There had been something, though. Something which was only just beginning to come to light. She kept having the feeling that, somehow, inexplicably, she had more of a relation to them than they cared to admit. Possibly, that there was something important that they were not telling her. She had been feeling a strange sense of foreboding, and could swear that she was being watched.

But she would turn around, and no one would be there. Strange, that, and the feeling she got around so many of them. A sense of kindred.

There was something else, though. Electra knew that there was another kind of feeling coming well into light. It was inevitable, she supposed, what with being at the age and stage she was at.

But she'd never thought that it would happen in this way – the way it shouldn't happen, and the way she knew she would have to keep hidden away for a very long time.

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><p><em>Author's note<em>

This is the prelude to the rest of this story, which is the multi-chapter story I mentioned on my profile. I'll not give too much away now, but it's in three parts - Unfamiliar; Protector; and Kindred. And three guesses as to the central characters in the story (and each of the three respective parts). The first chapter will probably be posted in a week and a half, two weeks, something like that.

I've had this story in my head for ages, and now it's actually happening! I'm so excited!

Until next time: Unfamiliar, Chapter 1

~JemmiVoice


	2. Heartless

Note: _"Talking in Spanish"_  
>This applies throughout the story.<p>

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><p>It was late on a warm summer's evening in the heart of London. All was quiet in the street where a tom kitten lay sleeping, unaware of his parents' arguing close by.<p>

"We are going back to Spain."

"What? You can't be serious!"

"I am quite serious. We are going back," the queen said to her mate coolly.

"Why? Why do you want to go back to the place that we have finally gotten away from?" he demanded incredulously. "You agreed to live here with me. You said that London was a better place for us."

"Yes, and since then I've changed my mind," she replied.

"You agreed to come here so that our _children_ could live well. And in case you've forgotten, we have a kit now," he added. "So why would you want to leave? You've always said you wanted to get away from your family, always," he repeated.

She looked away from him as she answered. "Again, I've changed my mind. I've changed my views on my family. I miss my sisters, and my father. I do not like it here very much either way, whatever I might have thought about this country when you brought me here."

"What about our son?" he pressed. "Surely he deserves better. I do not even know if he would survive the trip, and even if he did, your family is _bad_. They're criminals, for Bast's sake! How could you expect our son to grow up with that? Are you that cruel?" he finished, glaring at her.

"I am not that cruel," she answered. "Our son will not be coming with us."

Ignoring his protests, she got to her feet and started to pace in front of the skip they had taken residence beside.

"Here's my plan," she said. "There is a train station near to here with a train that goes to a port – the same port we entered this country by. As you know, there are boats that leave there for Spain and France regularly. We are getting on one of those boats in a week, and our son will not be with us." As he opened his mouth to protest, she continued. "Like you said, our families are not the best cats for him to grow up with. So he won't." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"Two weeks ago, I was talking to this queen, I forget her name. She said that she used to live in a junkyard on the other side of town. She said that there were no bad cats there, and that everyone there was very welcoming and civilised. She mention that she had some personal issues with some members of that tribe, and that is why she left, but it got me thinking. What better place for our child to grow up than among the very sorts of cats we came here to be among? She said that she had a son, older than ours, she said, but still…I expect there will be others…" she trailed off. "Anyway, he is going to live there. And you are going to take him," she concluded.

He got to his feet and started to pace opposite her as he said, "You wish me to take our son there. To take him and leave him among strangers. They won't understand him, he won't understand them!" he shouted, turning and pointing at her. "How do you expect him to cope, or to be happy?" he asked.

"He's a smart kit," was the curt response. "He'll learn. And doubtless, he'll be far happier there than he would ever be with my family. You know that just as well as I do."

He contemplated her steely resolve, unmovable. He knew which side he had to take, knew also that he would live to regret it.

"Fine. You win," he spat. "When?"

"Tonight," she responded coolly. "I'll get him now. The queen said the junkyard was near another railway station…she mentioned a street…Victoria Grove, I think it was," she said slowly. "Yes, that was it. You'll make it in a few days if you can go quickly. I'll meet you by the station near here in a week, and our son will not be with you. Understood?"

As he nodded his consent, and she moved away, kneeling down to wake their son, he couldn't help but wonder at her, and at himself, and how they could be as heartless as he now knew they were.

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><p>Two days later, and the tom found himself outside the junkyard his mate had described. It was just beginning to get dark, and the tom considered leaving his dozing son there and then. But his conscience took over. The kit would never survive, not out here.<p>

He slipped into the junkyard, and took the first side pathway he saw. There wasn't much point in raising awkward questions with the residents of the place, he felt, but he knew that they had to find his child. So he made his way further into the junkyard, looking for any sign of a den. Twice he had to hide, and wait in silence, as the paths he had taken were in turn walked by the junkyard's inhabitants. A couple of them seemed to have noticed his scent, and one even looked in his direction, but he was thankful that none of them acted on it.

It grew darker the more he searched, but at last he found an area where there were several dens clustered together. _Good. He'll be safe here._ He laid his son down, and shook him a little, trying to wake him. Better to let him know now that he was just being left here. Left without his family, left with cats who he did not know. Who could easily cast him back onto the streets. _I shouldn't be doing this._

"Papa?" the kit asked, drawing the older tom from his thoughts. _"Where are we?"_

"This –" he faltered. "This is your new home. You won't know any of the cats here, but I'm sure they'll be good to you, and you must be good to them too. Alright?"

"_Where's Madre?"_ the kitten asked.

"Madre…isn't here. She's not coming," he answered slowly.

"_But you're staying. Aren't you, Papa?"_

He took a shaky breath. "No, my son. I…I have to go. I have to go now. And you have to stay here." As the kit looked at him, puzzled, still not fully comprehending what was going on, he leant down, rubbed his head against the kit's, and whispered, "Goodbye, my son."

The kit stared up at him as he straightened, turned around, and silently made his way back the way he had come. He could hear his son calling out to him, but he pressed on. He couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever.

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><p>The kitten stared after his father's retreating figure, expecting his father to turn around, and return to him, and take him back home.<p>

"_Papa? Papa, where are you going?" _the little patched tom called. His father did not look back._ "Papa? Papa! Where are you going? Please don't leave me here, I'm scared!_" the kitten cried. _"Papa! Papa. Come back …" _

As the cat disappeared into the night, however, it started to become glaringly obvious to the kit that his father had left him. That he was alone. As this realisation hit him, he stopped calling, and started to sob, with no one there to listen to him expect the quiet wind blowing through the junkyard, and an old tom making his way back to his den from the theatre.

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><p>It had been a long day, and Gus was feeling very much like going straight to his den and falling asleep as soon as was possible. In fact, he was very nearly about to accomplish that, when a quiet, choking sobbing started to sound near him.<p>

He sighed. _Another lost kitten? Really, when will they learn to stay in the clearing until they grow up enough not to lose their way? And why is it still out here? Surely someone should have found it by now…_ Still, a lost kitten was a lost kitten, and he felt obliged to find it, comfort it, and take it to its home. And _then_ he would finally be able to return to his den.

He turned the corner, making his way towards the sound, all the while fighting to keep his eyes open. He steeled himself for the onslaught of distraught kitten that was sure to come, so it was a shock to him when he rounded a junk pile and came face to face with a kitten that was seemingly unaware of his presence, and, strangely, that he did not recognise.

Gus was one of the older cats in the junkyard, and he wasn't there a lot of the time, that was true, but he had always taken it upon himself to learn who each new generation of kittens was. And this small, patched tom was a kitten he had never seen before. _How odd._

"Young one?" he called, causing the kitten to snap its head up at him and fall backwards a little. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I scare you?" he asked, crouching down to better see the kitten. "Are you alright?"

The kitten nodded. He was trembling a little, Gus noticed.

"Are your parents here?" A shake of the head was his answer.

"Would you like to come to my den?" he asked gently. "You can go to sleep there, and it'll be warmer than sleeping out here."

The kitten nodded, and got to his feet, following Gus without making a sound. It was a good thing, Gus thought, that his den was so close to where the kitten had been – left? Abandoned, even? – because the kitten looked about as tired as he was. As they reached the entrance of his den, a thought occurred to him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The kitten's eyes widened, and his breathing quickened. Gus was about to take his question back, when the kitten swallowed, opened his mouth, and spoke for the first time since Gus had found him, in a light, accented voice.

"My n-name – my name is Alonzo."

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><p><em>Author's note<em>

Chapter One. _Finally._ It's been a while in coming, for which I apologise. HOWEVER - it is here now. So yes.

I do not trust Google Translate very much, so you shall just have to put up with a lot of italics. And make the distinction when emphasised words appear in this way as well. Here's my hint: if the entire sentence is in italics, it'll probably have just been said by Alonzo. Capesh? Good.

Next update: Soon. Before Sunday, probably.

~JemmiVoice


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